


One-Eye

by Eireann



Category: The Last Kingdom (TV)
Genre: Anticipation, Gen, Revenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-23 19:01:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17085917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eireann/pseuds/Eireann
Summary: Awaiting the arrival of Sverri's ship Trader, Sven Kjartanson finds himself thinking.I haven't yet read the books, so this is just a small filler-in scene that popped into my mind when I woke up in the wee hours this morning and couldn't get back to sleep.





	One-Eye

**Author's Note:**

> The Last Kingdom is copyright to Carnival Television. No infringement intended, no money made.

Sven Kjartanson had never been good at waiting.

He laid down his pot of piss-poor ale, and his one remaining eye glowered at the empty sea for what felt like the hundredth time that day.  He and his men had been waiting in this miserable arse-end of the world for more than ten days, and still there was no sign of the _Trader_ , despite the slaver’s insistence that the ship was expected to arrive any day now. 

Sverri, Jonis had assured him, was a regular purchaser.  He needed strong, fit slaves to man the oars for a good summer’s trading, and the weaklings from the previous year’s crew would have been weeded out by the brutal winter layover in Iceland.  With an eye to profit, the slaver had already acquired a number of suitable individuals whom Sverri might deem worth buying – much depended on how many of his ship’s rowing benches were now vacant.  There were usually at least one or two; the shipmaster had never been a believer in spoiling his slaves by sparing the whip, and every _môrk_ of superfluous food carried for the wretched rowers was one fewer of cargo that could earn him profit.

But the slaver’s camp was some distance from the nearest village, and even that had no tavern.  There were a few women there who were so old and ugly even Sverri would turn up his nose at the idea of trying to find a buyer for them, and though Sven was not especially discriminating when it came to women, even he had his limits.  The nearest town of any size was the best part of half a day’s ride away, and he could not – under any circumstances – take the risk that the _Trader_ would call in his absence.  He could not demand that Jonis detain Sverri until his return, for that would undoubtedly give the game away that one of the slaves was valuable, and it would take little questioning to discover who that might be.  Then someone might come to the conclusion that Ragnarson – if he still lived – would be worth far more alive than dead.

Sven’s father wanted Uhtred Ragnarson dead.  Ideally he wanted both the adopted and the blood son dead, but for the present, Ragnar was out of reach, a prisoner of Alfred of Wessex.  Uhtred, however, had been sold into slavery, and was (if the gods were kind, and he’d survived the winter) still aboard the _Trader._ If he was, then Sven meant to secure him and kill him.  That plan would be placed in potential danger if his identity and therefore value became known.  On all counts it would be wisest to stay here and remain in position to act at once as soon as the situation became clear.

Wise, yes.  Enjoyable, no – at least, the waiting part was not.  In ordinary circumstances Sven would have been very apprehensive indeed about coming face to face with a warrior of Uhtred’s stature, but months at the oar of a trading galley and a winter of semi-starvation would have taken their toll.  If he was still alive, it would be a very different man who would stumble ashore in chains.  And the prospect of what that meeting would bring was very enjoyable indeed. 

Sven selected a rather withered apple from the unappealing selection set in front of him, and bit into it.  The agony of having his one eye blinded as punishment for a boyish misdemeanour was still vivid in his mind, though the pain had faded long since to a dull ache, worst in winter.  Still, it had been avenged: Ragnar the Elder had died in front of his burning Hall, family and household, and the only thing that was to be regretted about that day was that the bastard had died with a weapon in his hand, ensuring his passage to Valhalla.  Reduced or not, Uhtred Ragnarson would also die, like a slave in his chains, and another part of Kjartan’s vengeance would be accomplished.

Dying in his chains... Sven smiled, imagining himself returning to Dunholm with the hated head hanging at his saddlebow.  He would stride into the Hall and fling it onto the table as if it had been taken in combat, and the skalds would sing of how Sven Kjartanson the One-Eyed had defeated the great Uhtred Ragnarson.  Of course, for the appearance of things the prisoner would have to be given a sword – it was regrettable, but unavoidable; no skald could be expected to sing of a victory over a foe who was tethered like a bullock for the slaughter.  But having seen the condition of slaves chained at the rowing-oars, Sven was quite sure that a sword in the hand of such a man would be no more than a technicality.  With a little care, it could even be dashed from his grip before he was despatched out of the world, so that he would not even have the prospect of Valhalla to brighten his darkening eyes.

And after claiming the praise of his father, and of the warriors in the Hall, he would then go to the next person who must hear of his triumph.

At that thought, the smile faded a little from Sven’s face.  His mouth took on a petulant droop.

_Thyra._

He had had to have her, of course.  The only survivor from the massacre in Ragnar’s Hall, on the very eve of her wedding, she had been his prize of war.  The moment when he had finally finished the business he had begun so long ago in the bare woods where the children played was still one of the proudest of his life.

Repetition had slaked neither his desire nor her hatred.  His father’s command that she was fair game for any man had irked him a little, but he had not dared to intervene openly, though as her wits began to turn fewer had cared to take advantage.  Ironically, it was then that he found that even against his will he had begun, a little, to care for her.

It was too late, of course. Sane or mad, she would have none of him.  When he tried to persuade her that it was not necessary to live among the dogs, she defied him.  Every clumsy attempt at kindness, she flung back in his face.  He veered helplessly between anger and pity, between frustration and lust.  And though it would, of course, be a splendid thing to show her the trophy of his victory over her adopted brother (the fledgling warrior who had not even attempted to rescue her, but had ridden off leaving her to her fate!), still Sven had the uneasy feeling that she was more likely to rave at him than admire him.  Not that it mattered what she did, because it would be entirely appropriate for him to demonstrate his masculine prowess over her as well as her father’s pet Saxon, but still... His lip jutted still further.

Women.  There was no understanding them at all.

He was just about to reach yet again for the ale-jug when there was a shout from the lookout posted atop the dunes.  “My lord – a ship!”

The _Trader._ All thoughts of Thyra’s intransigence vanished in a surge of excited hope, and Sven stood up so hastily the crude bench on which he had been sitting tumbled backwards.

He had arranged everything.  The slaver knew better than to risk the wrath of Sven Kjartanson.  Nothing would be said until the ship had beached, until its rowers had shuffled ashore with whatever cargo their master wanted carried.  Until they were standing in a beaten, exhausted row, waiting for whatever misery life was to inflict on them next.

Uhtred Ragnarson would be one of them.  It was destiny, it was Fate. Sven knew it.  His fingers trembled slightly with excitement as they fitted around the hilt of his sword.

_Now comes the hour of vengeance!_

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this, please leave a review!


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